


Female Reader x Squip, “Waiting”

by BigFatDumbRat



Category: Be More Chill
Genre: Depression, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, Self Harm, Suicidal Tendencies, Suicide, parental neglect, wholesome (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigFatDumbRat/pseuds/BigFatDumbRat
Summary: You’ve been aimlessly stumbling through life, eyes always half-shut. It feels like one of these days, you’ll sink into bed and fade away from existence, with nobody to forget you - because they didn’t remember you in the first place. Until, one day, you’re offered a pill.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi lol this is my first time posting anything pls be nice, also i don’t really have a plot made up in my head yet comments tell me what u think should happen??? :))

Warm, and slightly rough. Firm and purposeful, yet gentle. Hands, clearly male, roam your body with love and affection. You don’t shy away. You don’t have to. Everything is safe when you are in each other’s arms. Your eyes flutter open, yearning to see his loving eyes staring down at you.

And the yellowed ceiling is all that greets you. The familiar weight sets into your chest, and you sigh. You can’t remember the last time you had human contact. Not an accidental brush of the hand, or a bump in the hallway, that didn’t count. You craved something real. But all you had was yourself. It was pitiful, but sometimes you would close your eyes and hold your own hand, pretending that somebody loved you. But in the end, you always opened your eyes.

The bed creaked in protest as you shifted your weight towards the edge. Maybe you would stay in bed today. Even your mattress seemed to agree. But you knew that would only make you feel heavier. Besides, it was much easier to come home and sleep when you had actually left the house. Your toes stretched towards the floor, and before you knew it, you were ready to leave. Most things were done unconsciously at this point. You practically didn’t remember anything. You couldn’t even keep track of the calendar anymore. 

As you approached the door, you stopped and looked around, taking a couple seconds to ground yourself in reality.  
Your house was completely empty. Your parents were never around, and when they were, you couldn’t even tell they were there. You were a decoration. It had always been this way, but sometimes you took the time to realize that this was not normal, nor healthy. Your classmates all had companions, families. But all you had to call your own was the constant dull ache in your chest.  
“I’m leaving,” you silently mouthed, though to whom you did not know. Like an alligator submerging itself in murky waters, your eyes glazed over once again as your shoes began to reluctantly scrape against the pavement. 

You were late again. It was routine at this point. On the days you did come to school, which was not quite often, you always were. The halls were empty, except for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the rhythmic squeaking of your old sneakers. It seemed even the freshly polished floor didn’t want you touching it, and though you were only half-aware of your surroundings at any given time, you suspected nothing and nobody wanted anything to do with you. A heavy wooden door was pushed open, and you realized that you had entered your classroom. All eyes were on you.

“You’re late again,” The teacher commented, clearly displeased. 

You nodded.

She sighed, and returned to what she was writing on the board. They all knew what to expect from you, and that was to not expect anything from you. Something about The Metamorphosis, a guy who wakes up to find that he’s become a giant roach. Not too dissimilar from your own life, you thought, though you figured you had always been a roach. If only one day you could wake up as a person. You took your seat and stared at the desk, blurring your own vision to reduce the amount of external input, distracting you from (or perhaps engulfing you in) the absolute nothing you were currently engaged in. 

You had no problem with waiting. Every day was just a waiting game for you. Waiting for what, you had no idea, but you would stare at the wall for hours. In the short term, you knew what to expect. You waited for the bell to ring. You waited to go home so you could take a nap. You waited for reruns of Mister Rodger’s Neighborhood. But beyond that? You figured your life would always be the way it was. You figured that you would die before anything changed. No, you wouldn’t die. You’d crumble like feta cheese, or sink into your bed like quicksand. Most likely, you thought, you weren’t anywhere at all. Yes, that was it. Nothing was real. One day it would just... stop.

And that thought didn’t bother you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lol so i finally got around to writing this part... sorry it took so long i didn’t want to jump right into the Squippening lol. So I wanted this chapter to show the other side of the coin when it comes to reader’s depression, so as opposed to constant numbness it’s overwhelming emotion. I promise we’ll set up the squip in the next chapter!! Sorry this is a short chapter

The television illuminated the stiff air around you. So stiff, in fact, that you felt that you would get splinters if you breathed too hard. You weren’t even aware of what was playing anymore. All you knew was that it was too loud and too bright, but the suffocating loneliness that would set in once you turned it off would be too much. You always needed some sort of distraction when you were alone. The TV was always on, your headphones were always in, and you never were quite where your body was. Recently, you had started to feel as if you were merely an observer of your own body, and you swore that sometimes you could almost see yourself, like in a third-person video game. 

You sighed, though it never did much to alleviate the constant heaviness in you. It was a reflex impossible to shake, something as natural as scratching an itch you know won’t go away. You always felt heavy, though your body was considerably light. It wasn’t like carrying a backpack stuffed with books. The sensation was purely internal, like a leaden snake coiled around your heart, weaving its way throughout you, and finally stopping to wrap its head around your throat. When it squeezed especially hard, as it did now, you went from numb to agonized.

It started slowly. It always did. But you recognized the pattern already, from years of experience. You knew your emotions would grow exponentially. It started with a tear, then another, a couple more, and a huff. Your shoulders began to shake, and your heart began to burn, and you were banging your fists on the bedpost and screaming and sobbing and your vision was blurry and nobody would hear and nobody would see and nobody nobody nobody you were completely alone.

Though you watched yourself, and your fists ached from pounding, and you suspected your heart would drop onto the floor like a bowling ball, you felt unattached, almost apathetically so. You had watched this scene unfold countless times before, so you just watched and waited until you got tired and cried yourself to sleep. It’s almost as if the creature screaming its lungs out and tugging on its long, tangled hair wasn’t you. 

Eventually, you did stop. You couldn’t tell if it had been five minutes or five hours, but you stopped. You lay your head on the pillow, shut your eyes as tightly as you could, and focused on the hot tears streaking down your face that pooled together on the pillow. 

Tomorrow was another day. It used to sound hopeful to you. Now it just made you feel trapped.


End file.
